Silence of the Nature

A dimly lit square room

Light peeking through the foggy glassed-windows

Crumby bed playing the song of eternity

Of breathing and masturbating,

Into the silences of the nights

In harmony with the multitude of unseen

Chirping insects and animals grazing into the nightly dew

That lie shaken at the sound of the flutter of underwear flying off

And hands greasing into a the hand of a heroin addict

Working the shovel, digging and unhinging

New and untouched graves of souls that died

Into the chemical imprint of films, cut and edited

With breast and vaginas calling like cocks and balls crying

For everything that came from dust must return to dust.

Dust covered,

Swollen gentilia

Dug hard into the red dust

Causing irritating and painful friction

Ants crawling and biting into the stalk

Of ripe green juicy paddy

Releasing new spurts of rashes

All across my body

The strong yet lean stems of the arecanut

Draw taller; their roots flying deeper and deeper

Their leaves spreading into the night sky

Shooting, looking at the skies

Into the whiteness of the moon.

The last shriek, last moan

engraved into the Rustling of sheets.


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